


The Last of All the Rides We Take

by MCRmyGeneral



Series: Words I Never Said [12]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, FUCKING FINALLY, Fugitives, Ian comes to his senses, Inner Struggle, M/M, Reconciliation, Running Away, Ultimatums, all of the angst, eloping kinda, escaped convict, prison break - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-26 20:59:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCRmyGeneral/pseuds/MCRmyGeneral
Summary: "We're one step from the finish line."The border scene from 7x11, the way weallknow it should've happened.





	The Last of All the Rides We Take

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from The Kids From Yesterday by My Chemical Romance, because I couldn't _not_ name one after a My Chem song.

“Pass me another.”

“You've already had three.”

Mickey smiled. “Gonna be swimmin’ in a sea of tequila in just a few hours. Gotta build up my tolerance,” He said with a smirk.

Ian rolled his eyes, but handed Mickey another beer.

Mickey sighed heavily as he cracked it open, flicking the cap into the creek.

“Having second thoughts?” Ian asked, looking up toward the sky.

Mickey snorted. “Fuck no. What am I leaving behind? My family? Who cares if I never see those shitheads again? You had my back more than they ever did,” He snarled. Then after a second, he spoke again, significantly softer. “Do you ever hear from Mandy?”

Ian glanced over and saw the forlorn look on Mickey's face. Of all his siblings, he and Mandy had a special relationship, and Mickey was especially hurt when she left with Kenyatta.

Ian shook his head. “No, not since she left. I check the Indiana obits every week, though. It's always a good week when I don't see her name followed by ‘domestic abuse’ anywhere.”

Mickey frowned, and Ian shrugged. “She's a Milkovich. She'll be okay. Those Milkoviches are tough as nails. They can handle anything the world throws at them.”

Mickey screwed his mouth into a lopsided smile. Then, without warning, he balled his fist up and threw a wicked jab at Ian's arm.

Ian groaned, struggling to not spit out his beer. “Ow. The fuck was that for?” He asked angrily, raising a fist at Mickey, but Mickey didn't so much as flinch.

“You never fucking visited me,” Mickey threw at him, drawing in a deep mouthful of cigarette smoke.

Ian grimaced. “It was hard seeing you,” He confessed, “Through that glass.”

Mickey scoffed. "Well, I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable, princess," he quipped, rolling his eyes and taking a swig from his bottle.

"Don't, Mick."

"Don't what? You think I liked seeing you all doped out in that fuckin' psych ward?"

Ian's lips parted.

"Hell no, man. It fuckin' killed. You didn't even look real, you could barely speak. It scared the shit outta me. But I did it because you needed me to," Mickey said fiercely, his voice getting thicker with each word, the way it did when he was holding back tears, "Whether you knew it or not. You needed me to be..." He cut himself off and ground the heel of his hand into his eyes.

"To be what?" Ian whispered, his stomach aching. Nothing broke him down like seeing Mickey struggle to hold it together.

"Strong," Mickey finally got out after a long moment, when he knew he could open his mouth and not break down, "I needed to be the strong one, I needed to keep myself together because you couldn't."

Ian felt his heart break more and more with each word.

"And then when I needed you to be strong, to help hold it together, it was too hard?"

"Mick-"

"Whatever, man. What's done is done."

Ian set a hand on Mickey's shoulder, but he shook it off.

Ian shook his head. “I'm sorry that I hurt you.”

Mickey scoffed, taking another angry swallow of his beer.

“But I'm not gonna let it happen again.”

“You sure about that?”

Ian recoiled, like Mickey had burned him with his words. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Why are you here?” Mickey asked, looking over his shoulder to a very confused Ian.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I fuckin’ mean,” Mickey swore, getting to his feet. Ian followed blindly. “I see the way you're lookin’ at me, Ian! Like you don't even know me.”

Ian sighed. “Sometimes I don't, Mick,” He said softly.

Mickey's face went red. “That's _fuckin’ bullshit_! You know me better than anybody else! I am still the same person you fell in love with, the same person you shared a bed with. A year in prison doesn't change that shit.”

Ian scowled. “You are on the run from the fucking Feds. You almost robbed a goddamn bank! You're not the same, Mickey.”

“I am doing what I have to do to give us a fighting chance!”

Ian scoffed, turning away.

“So that's it, huh?” Mickey asked, his voice getting thick again, “I put everything on the line to be with you, and you're just gonna blow me off?”

“I'm here, aren't I?” Ian snarled over his shoulder.

Mickey scoffed. “Yeah, right now. What about in a week? Six months? Are you dump me again the next time your meds get outta whack? I'm risking everything here, Ian. So if you're not serious about this, I need to fuckin’ know.”

Ian turned back around. “Mick-” He said softly, but Mickey cut him off.

“That shit you said to me on your porch when you came back from Monica… You know that shit’s not true and if you don't, you're dumber than I thought. Listen,” He inhaled a shuddering breath, “I don't care if you stop takin’ your meds, okay? I don't care if you get fuckin’ nuts again. I don't. Fucking. Care. I just need to be with you. Manic, depressed, and everything in between. I need you.”

Ian’s breath caught in his throat.

“So my cards are on the table,” Mickey said with a dry laugh, “I'm all in. Your turn. I need to know if you're gonna do it again. Because I don't deserve this shit.”

“Listen…”

“All I need to hear is yes or no. No,” He sighed, shaking his head, “I'm not the same person I was. But neither are you. You were just a normal kid when I fell for you. And two years later, you were a bipolar stripper who'd dropped out of school. But I stuck by you because you mattered more than anything. Now it's your turn. You need to tell me if you can still love a fugitive. Because if the answer to that question is no, or it _might_ be no, then you might as well turn around right now. I'm not dragging your ass to Mexico if you're gonna hate me for the rest of our lives, or turn around and leave again in a month. I need a guarantee.”

Ian stood for a long second, breathing deeply. “I love you, Mickey. I’m here for a reason.”

“But?” Mickey asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“But I don't know,” He admitted with a shake of his head.

Mickey ran his tongue along his teeth, then bit into his lip hard. Ian knew why he used so much force. He was trying not to cry.

“I know that I asked you to make a really rough choice, Ian. And I know it was a lot to spring on you so fast. So I'm givin’ you an out,” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, “Right here, right now. If you aren't certain about this, you can walk away right now, and I won't try to stop you,” Mickey offered, his voice finally breaking. He sniffled and bit his lip.

Seeing how the thought of Ian leaving finally cut through Mickey's wall sent a wave of emotions flooding through Ian's head. Guilt, affection, horror, love. Ian's eyes pricked with tears. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice had disappeared.

Mickey still didn't look at him as he sat back down on the blanket they'd laid out.

“I'm going to sleep. I got a lot ridin’ on tomorrow, even if you don't,” He threw over his shoulder.

Ian grimaced, Mickey's words sparking a deep pain in his chest.

Mickey curled up on his side, his back to Ian. His shoulders were tense, his whole body rigid, and Ian had a feeling it wasn't because of the hard ground he was laying on.

Ian sighed, grabbing his abandoned beer, plus one more and climbing on the roof of the station wagon they'd commandeered. He tipped the bottle into his mouth, drinking greedily. When that one was empty, he cracked open the next, the effervescent _hiss_ sounding entirely too loud against the background of crickets chirping and the babbling creek.

Ian closed his eyes and laid back against the windshield, the cold glass sending a chill down his spine. He wasn't surprised that the first face floating behind his eyes was Mickey's. Mickey had meant so much to him for so long. For years, he'd dreamt of a future with the thug, a life together, maybe even a family. Their time playing house with Svetlana and Yvgeny had given Ian a taste of that life, and he wanted to chase it with every fiber of his being.

He was so out of whack when he dumped Mickey those long years ago, his mind so scrambled by Monica's venomous mind tricks. Mickey was all he wanted for so long. How could he be so stupid to think that he could change his mind so quickly? He should've known better. He should've known that the words coming out of his mouth weren't his; it was Monica and the lithium speaking.

He thought back on the conversation he'd had with Fiona only three days ago, when there was still some kind of normalcy to his life.

_”You ever, uh, think about what would have happened if you ran off with Jimmy-Steve?”_

_“My life would be a non-stop psycho thriller. I definitely dodged a bullet with that one.”_

_“What if nothing ever gives you that same thrill again? Will you still feel like you dodged a bullet?”_

_“I don't know. Probably.”_

Ian breathed out a heavy breath. He knew that Fiona missed Jimmy, even if she wouldn't admit it. Jimmy was a roller coaster of good and bad, but he also made Fiona the happiest that Ian had ever seen her. Mickey did the same for him. Nothing ever made him feel the way he did when Mickey smiled at him. Mickey was one hell of a high, one that Ian knew he'd never find again if he walked away now. He knew in his heart that nobody else would ever make him feel this way. Ned didn't. Caleb hadn't. Trevor certainly didn't.

He sat up, looking over to where Mickey was already sleeping. Ian was still amazed that the boy didn't snore, what with having his nose broken so many times. The only reason he could tell he was actually sleeping was because his breathing had evened out. He sat for a long moment, just watching Mickey sleep.

He knew that this was stupid. He was gonna uproot everything, give up all that he'd built for himself for Mickey? Fi was right; he had done a complete 180 with his life. He went from a coked-out stripper blowing guys in the back of the club for 50 bucks a head or whatever pills they had to offer, to a fucking EMT. He was saving lives, helping people, making a difference. That was always what he wanted with the Army; to matter. To be important. He was finally in a place in his life where he wasn't ashamed of what he saw when he looked in the mirror. He couldn't throw that away, even for Mickey. He couldn't let his whole life crumble for the boy. He would be slapped on WANTED posters right alongside Mickey if he did this. He'd be an accessory, helping a fugitive escape the cops. Hell, he'd be a fugitive, too. What, was he was just gonna keep looking over his shoulder his entire life? He inhaled a shuddering breath as the tears welled in his eyes. He couldn't do it.

He slid off the hood of the car and over toward the blanket, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder, eyes never leaving Mickey's sleeping frame.

He tried to turn to walk back to the road, but his muscles wouldn't move. He couldn't look away from the boy sleeping on the ground. This boy had been his entire life for the last five years. As much as he tried to walk away, he knew in his bones that he couldn't. Ian knew he was in too deep. He was kidding himself. Leaving Mickey was never an option. 

With a sigh, Ian dropped his backpack. He sat down on the blanket beside Mickey, staring up at the sky. Then he rolled onto his side, snaking an arm around the boy's waist and nuzzling his nose into the crook of Mickey's neck, inhaling deeply. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne. That scent was Ian's favorite in the whole world.

Though he was fast asleep, Mickey instinctively sank back into Ian, his muscles loosening when he felt the familiar wall of muscle nestled behind him. Mickey loved when Ian would wrap himself around him, as gay as it was. It made him feel like nothing could ever get to him, and even in his sleep, he chased that security.

Ian tried to capture the way his heart fluttered when he felt Mickey push against him, tried to imagine never feeling this way again, and it made a pained noise bubble up in his throat.

The two boys came together like puzzle pieces. Each one jagged and torn, but fitting together to create one whole piece. Ian was crazy to think he could walk away from this. He knew that this was where he belonged. He felt content and safe with Mickey, no matter where they were. They were magnets, polar opposites, but came together every time they were separated. Nothing could keep them apart; not juvie, not the Army, not the psych ward or even federal prison.

Home wasn't Chicago. It wasn't the South Side, it wasn't even that run-down two-story house at 2119 North Wallace, what Ian had considered home for most of his life. Nope, home wasn't a place anymore. It was a living, breathing, shit-talking criminal named Mickey. Mickey was home to Ian, and he was ashamed that it had taken this long to realize it.

****

Ian didn't sleep much that night, but he was okay with it. He was awake when Mickey finally stirred, groaning and squeezing his eyes shut. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fuckin’ sun,” He muttered. It took him a second before he registered the arm slung around his hips, and the warm breath dancing across his neck and down the back of his shirt. He looked over his shoulder to see Ian staring at him.

“Ian?” He said breathlessly, “You're still here?” He asked in disbelief.

Ian smiled softly. “I'm sorry I'm late.”

Mickey gasped as if those four words knocked all the wind out of him. He recognized those words, the same ones he'd said to Ian when he'd finally pulled his head out of his ass and came to see him after he was released from his inpatient stint. Of course Ian would say those words to him now. He was sentimental like that.

Mickey turned in Ian's arms, sticking one of his legs between the redhead’s. He brought his arm up to lay a hand on Ian's cheek, stroking his sharp cheekbones. Ian sank into Mickey's touch.

“I'm sorry for all the shit that I put you through back then,” Ian said sadly.

Mickey shook his head. “You were sick.”

“That's not an excuse. Sick doesn't make you hurt the people you love.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Mickey shushed him, “That's all in the past now. Nothing but sunshine and tequila from here on out,” He said with a smile.

Ian smiled back. He could look at that smile every day for the rest of his life, and never get sick of it. That smile was all he needed to know that he'd made the right decision.

“Hey,” Mickey said with a chuckle, “You ever think back in the day, this is where we'd be?”

“You running from the Feds?” Ian asked, cocking an eyebrow, “Yeah, I could have predicted that shit.”

Mickey rolled his eyes and settled them back on Ian’s. “You ever think about me?” He asked softly, almost nervously, “When I was in the joint?”

Ian inhaled deeply and nodded. “A lot.”

Mickey exhaled shakily, like those words took his breath away. “Fuck, I missed you,” He admitted, scooting even closer to the boy.

Ian wasn't sure who leaned forward, but suddenly he and Mickey were kissing, softly at first then deeply. Ian roamed his hands over every inch of Mickey's body, licking into his mouth greedily. Mickey responded with delicious moans. He swung his leg over Ian, crawling on top of him and slipping his flannel off. Ian sat up and tore off his own shirt, then Mickey's. He licked at Mickey's chest and stomach as he unbuckled the boy's belt. Mickey moaned above him, the muscles in his stomach undulating with every shudder. His hands were buried in Ian's hair, pulling slightly.

“Fuck,” Mickey whispered, almost silently. “God, that _tongue_ ,” He moaned, looking down to meet Ian's eyes. “The things you do with that tongue,” He said low in his throat, voice laced with a kind of sinful pride.

Ian smiled and dipped the very tip of his tongue into the lines of Mickey's abs.

“God _damn_ , Gallagher.”

Ian wrapped an arm around Mickey's waist and rolled over, pinning him to the ground. He rolled his hips, grinding down against Mickey's erection.

“I swear to god if you don't stop teasing me and fuckin’ get to it…” Mickey warned and Ian laughed.

“Yes, sir,” He smirked, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down his thighs.

Mickey arched his back and sighed happily.

****

Ian leaned against the car and watched as Mickey primped in the side view mirror, straightening his wig and trying to brush the wrinkles from his dress.

Ian trailed his eyes up Mickey's tight-clad legs and smirked.

“ _What_?” Mickey scowled, finally catching Ian's eye. Ian's smile widened.

“Do you remember the night you came out?” He said with a smirk.

Mickey's tried to scowl at him, but it was impossible with the smirk he was wearing. He knew exactly what Ian was about to say. “Shut up,” He demanded, holding up one finger, “Fuck off,” He said, holding up another. He held up a third. “And get in the fuckin’ car,” He instructed, trying to sound intimidating through the smile on his face. “In that order.”

Ian chuckled and did what he was told.

Mickey slid in beside him. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

Ian took his head between his hands, turning his face towards his own. “Hey, look at me, Mick.”

Mickey opened his eyes.

“We’re gonna be okay. We’ll be fine. Just keep breathing, try not to draw attention to yourself, and don't speak.”

Mickey nodded at the instructions.

“Are you okay?”

Mickey smiled, his breathing leveling out. “We’re one step from the finish line.”

Ian smirked at his boyfriend, leaning in and kissing him softly.

“Let's roll,” He said when they parted. Mickey nodded.

Mickey grabbed for Ian's hand as they pulled onto the road. Ian gripped it tightly. Mickey's breathing sped up as they inched toward the gate.

“Relax,” Ian said softly, and Mickey nodded. 

The officer at the gate tapped on the window, and Ian rolled it down, smiling politely at the guard.

“How are you doing this morning?” He asked.

The guard nodded. “Alright. It's a hot one today.”

“Yeah,” Ian chuckled once.

“What's your purpose in Mexico?”

“Vacation. Honeymoon,” He answered, slipping a sideways glance at Mickey, who returned it.

“Names?”

“Ian and Mickey Gallagher.”

The cop nodded and turned around, skimming his checklist for the names.

Mickey chuckled.

“What?” Ian asked, rubbing circles into the back of Mickey's hand to soothe him.

Mickey shrugged. “Mickey Gallagher. Sounds nice. A lot better than Ian Milkovich.”

Ian laughed. “I'll keep that in mind for when I propose.”

Mickey snickered, turning toward the window to hide his smile.

The officer walked back up to the car, tapping the door twice. “You folks are all set. Congratulations and have a great honeymoon.”

Ian smirked. “We will. Have a nice day,” He waved as the officer walked to the car behind them.

Mickey squeezed Ian's hand and they both watched in awe as the gate lifted and they were waved past the border.

Mickey breathed out a heavy sigh of relief.

Ian drove the car past the border, smiling as it shrunk in their rear view mirror.

“We made it,” Mickey gasped. He looked at Ian. “Holy fuck, we made it.”

Ian smirked and Mickey peeled his wig off, tossing it out the window. He laughed as it fluttered in the breeze.

Mickey lifted their still-clasped hands, kissing Ian's knuckles softly. “We’re home free.”

Ian sighed.

“Thanks for coming,” Mickey said softly.

Ian winked at his boyfriend and Mickey laughed. He stuck his free hand out the window, savoring the breeze against his skin.

“Where to now?” Ian asked, and Mickey shrugged. He let a smile slowly spread across his face.

“Wherever you wanna go,” He answered, his heart fluttering at the smile Ian gave him. “The sky’s the limit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm not gonna lie; I think the whole series is at last halfway decent (I'm definitely my harshest critic), but I definitely think I saved the best for last. I hope you guys like it and thank you for all your kind words and support and prompts!
> 
> I just wanna give a shout-out to a couple people who have really shown me support by continually commenting on new works. Seriously, nothing makes my day like the amazing comments you guys leave! Even if I don't reply to every comment, I do read them all, and there were a few certain names I kept seeing, so hugs go out to 20dollamakeyaholla, [matchst_ck](http://archiveofourown.org/users/matchst_ck/pseuds/matchst_ck), [movielover1862](http://archiveofourown.org/users/movielover1862/pseuds/movielover1862), and [cinda1979](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cinda1979/pseuds/cinda1979). I keep seeing your names over and over and it makes me super proud and happy to know that my work is good enough for your continued support, so thank you all! <3<3<3<3


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